True Blood: You Smell Like the 80s

From the Alexis Morell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan-inspired zebra skin rug accenting King Bill’s fabulous new entryway, to Pam’s off the shoulder Nolan Miller-lite evening wear, to the return of a homophonically-named Crystal, to flashbacks and hair-don’ts, this episode was, at best, Dynasty starring poor people or, at worst, proof positive that like a vampire, the 1980s are back from the dead.

Before we travel back to the days of legwarmers and Lionel Richie, let’s take a moment and linger on the opening scene of “You Smell Like Dinner,” in which we find Jason, tied spread eagle on a bed and being licked—yes, licked—by a backwoods twink named Timbo. You see, Timbo (one of those werepanthers under Jason’s keen custodianship), ain’t got no bandages. In order to properly clean and sanitize the bloody wound on Jason’s noggin (which he caused, by the way), the only thing this pre-med savant can do is lick him. Repeatedly. This is odd. Oh, it’s hot, sure, but it’s still a little odd.

Mmm…tastes Australian.

But this scene carries a lot of weight, for today we celebrate, not the independence of our country, but an addition to the gay quote book. The words Jason utters in this scene will surely become a seminal go-to line for future generations as they attempt to extricate themselves from all manner of awkward situations. And that quote is: “It’s not that I don’t appreciate all the lickin,’ ‘cause I do…” Top that, Tom Jefferson.

And just when you think this scene can offer all it can, Felton shows up. You might remember Felton as Crystal’s boyfriend from last season. I know it’s hard to keep all of the toothless unwashed people separate, but don’t worry. Even if you can’t recall him, Jason surely does. But rather than welcoming Felton home with a “Hey man,” or “Jeepers, you’re looking well, old chum,” Jason prefers to get to the point and yells “Fuck you!” To which Felton, Bard of the Backwater, replies, “Fuck Me! Fuck Me!”

Let’s review this for a moment: Hidden in the back room of a compound populated by people who are too stupid to wash themselves and whose sole source of income is the production and distribution of illegal drugs, a hot-but-stupid model is tied to a bed, getting his head licked by a twink, while a butch biker yells “Fuck me! Fuck me!”

All that’s missing is Liza, Halston and the cast from A Chorus Line and it might as well be found footage from a Studio 54 security camera circa 1983.

And lo-and-behold, quicker than a than you can say, “Bob’s your uncle,” we flash back to…1983 London! Why look, here’s our Bill, wearing eyeliner and black nail polish, doing his best Gary Oldman-as-Sid Vicious, flirting with a bartender pierced nine ways to (we assume) Big Ben. I mentally name him Pip, because I had great expectations about where this was going. Sadly, the subsequent sucking sounds we hear are not the lads snogging in the alley, but just Bill getting his dinner on. Disappointing, but to make up for it, back in present day Bon Temps, we get to see Bill naked in bed. I think there was a girl there, too. Eh, whatever.

Bad hair. Bad makeup. Unprotected sex in an alley. Yup, it’s the 80s.

Now, I know she’s our heroine, but Sookie is starting to annoy me. First, during her argument with Eric about the pros and cons of home ownership, Sookie declares, and again I quote, “The house does not come with me inside it.” Now, I’m on board with vampires, shifters and witches. I’ll even stretch the bounds of imagination with strung-out illiterate werepanthers, but I swear on the holy book (and by that I mean Patti LuPone’s memoir), that I cannot support fairies engaging in intercourse with center hall colonials. It gives too much ammo to the anti-gay marriage nuts who think it leads to all sorts of kinky situations. Plus, a show like that is better suited for HGTV, not HBO. I’ll simply have no part of it.


Second, Sookie totally vampblocks Jessica, who’s getting it on with a fangbanger in a bathroom stall. Now I don’t know what goes on in a ladies room, but I can say with certainty that when guys are in the restroom, no one’s asking, “Does your boyfriend know what you’re doing in there?” Not cool, Sook. Not cool.

It’s been a whole week since we’ve seen Sam running around naked in the woods, so we get a nice shot of that. I think there was a girl there, too. Eh, whatever.

Who’s the better actor in this scene? (Hint: It’s the ice cream.)

Tara’s back in Bon Temps and, big surprise, she almost cries and then gets snappy. It’s pretty much exactly what she does in every scene in every episode.

Dear Writers,

This time she wells up when she sees Sookie, and then gets snappy when Jesus and Lafayette tell her about the coven. I have to admit that I held my breath in sincere and hopeful anticipation that she would say, “Wicca, please!” She didn’t.

Dear Writers,
I can’t believe you let that one go! C’mon!
P.S. I’ll work for scale. Email me!

While getting ready for bed (See America? Gay people have to get ready for bed just like you!), Jesus and Lafayette start talking about “black magic.” I think it’s cute when couples have nicknames for nookie, don’t you? So Newlywed Game. Anyway, the mood is completely ruined, for me at least, when it’s revealed that Lafayette’s ridiculous 80s frohawk ends in a rattail. It’s as if Mr. T, Miss J and Billy Ray Cyrus had a baby. And speaking of babies, Arlene’s is turning into Rosemary’s.

These shoes cost $300. Let’s get ‘em.

Next, Sam finds a fabulous pair of shoes waiting for him in his office. Simply stunning. I think they were being worn by the girl who may or may not have been naked with him in the woods, but I’m not sure. Eh, whatever. Later, the shoe lady tells Sam and the other shifters a harrowing story about becoming her mother. She’s half Navajo, and her people call it “skinwalking.” I’m a Kinsey 8, and my people call it “inevitable.”

Sam and Tommy (who’s no longer lame, but is nude, which is definitely not lame) decide to trust each other. It’s a touching moment between naked brothers, but make no mistake: this is not a moment of naked brothers touching.

Sad naked Tommy is sad.

Back at the coven, Eric goes from angry eyes to confused eyes to blank eyes, thanks to Aunt Petunia’s obliviate spell. Sookie discovers him walking along the side of the road wearing neither his man-cleavage baring t-shirt nor the leather jacket he borrowed from Suze Orman. There’s really no explanation given, or needed, for Eric’s sudden toplessness, but I can’t help thinking he’s going to get a bill from Suze for that jacket.

Meanwhile, back at Studio 54, the roles of Gloria Swanson and Truman Capote will be played by “I’m Back, Baby!” Crystal and “Fuck Me!” Felton. This is bad. But Crystal rips off part of Jason’s shirt, exposing his abs, which is good. And then she stuffs it into his mouth, so he can’t talk, which is even better. The episode ends with Jason in a threeway with two giant pussies, by which I mean Crystal and Felton turn into werepanthers and start chowing down on Jason’s abs.

Sadly, this marks the second episode in a row without Alcide. On the bright side, though, I’m really flexing my fiction-writing muscles by churning out hard drives-full of Alcide/Eric slash fiction.


So, True believers, what did you think of “You Smell Like Dinner?” Let us know in the comments section!

Robb Pearlman is an editor of pop culture and entertainment titles, including the upcoming The Joker and The Syfy Book of SciFi. He is the author of The Q Guide to Sex and the City, as well as upcoming adaptations of Alice in Wonderland and Winnie the Pooh.  He is known by name in comic book stores in such wide ranging locales as New York, Gotham City, Brigadoon and Seti Alpha Six. An only child in constant need of validation, he promises to accept your Facebook friend request.